Tale of the Rebellious Tenth
by Eleni the lil' vampire
Summary: Horrorhumour. What if Frodo failed to get to Rivendell in time and became the tenth (rather short) Ringwraith? Read on to find out about Pippin’s desperate attempts to save MiddleEarth before the Ring reaches Mordor! Guaranteed to get more bizarre as it
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: I'm going to write more whether you want me to or not :p but please write a review saying what you liked/detested to help me out!  
  
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine; I'm a thief etc. The term "Rebellious Tenth" was inspired by a dear friend of mine, and though she has no legal claim over it if you steel it she will come and beat you up with a big stick! I kid you not!!!  
  
Strider had found them a small clearing amongst the dense woodland where they could rest that night before the long journey ahead of them tomorrow. Tired though he was, Sam had been too anxious to sleep for fear of what was becoming his master. Eventually the ranger managed to persuade him that no amount of worrying would help Frodo now, and he would be best served by Sam if he was conscious enough to tackle the trip to Rivendell. This reasoning seemed to suffice, and as if to prove what the good servant he was, the hobbit was now snoring with a vengeance.  
  
Pippin however, was not granted this privilege, being the first on watch with Strider. Pulling his cloak tighter around him he glanced out nervously into the deep darkness that lurked amongst the trees, imaging what horrors hid within. The very thought made him shiver.  
  
"Relax master half-ling," Strider said with a coy smile "The Riders seek for Frodo, not you. Glorfindel will have led them far away by now."  
  
"I'm afraid your much mistaken, Ranger," Pippin replied proudly. "I was not shivering due to fear, but due to the cold. I do wish you'd allow us a fire – the light would also offer more comfort than sitting in this gloom here."  
  
"If we lit a fire we'd be letting anyone know our whereabouts. Do you really wish to lead them right to us and your friends?"  
  
The hobbit looked over to where Sam and Merry were fast asleep and shifted uncomfortably. Then staring at his hands he spoke in barely a whisper.  
  
"What will happen... if they don't make to Rivendell in time?"  
  
Pippin heard a sad sigh next to him as the ranger thought about that gloomy prospect.  
  
"I suppose... there is still a hope if we made it to Rivendell. If we warned the elves and were able to stop the riders before they made it to Mordor. Not much of a hope... but a hope."  
  
"And Frodo?"  
  
Strider paused for along time before he spoke.  
  
"He'd be one of the ones we'd be trying to stop."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
The young Took stared blankly into space. Suddenly he rose and began to walk into the woodland.  
  
"Peregrin!" Strider called out "Don't wander off on your own! Its too dangerous!"  
  
"I'm O.K!"  
  
"Come back here!"  
  
"Honestly I can cope!"  
  
"What is so important that your willing to risk yourself in such a manner?!"  
  
Pippin spun around angrily.  
  
"I need a piss – alright?!"  
  
There was an embarrassed cough.  
  
"Oh... well, er, be careful."  
  
And so Pippin strode off unaware that his bodily functions were what was about to save his life while the other hobbits stirred wanting to know what all the noise was about.  
  
"Hey!" started Merry. "Where has Pip gone? I heard him call out!"  
  
"It was the black riders wasn't it? They got Pippin!"  
  
Strider rolled his eyes.  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you hobbits? There are no black riders going to jump out and surround us at any moment!"  
  
Then just at that moment nine black riders jumped out and surrounded them. Irony – it never fails.  
  
Pippin was returning when suddenly he heard the attack. He ran back and witnessed the nine shadowing figures slowly close in on his three companions. Strider was in front holding his broken sword out in front of him, daring them to try and challenge him. Sam and Merry were standing behind him, but in true hobbit spirit had their daggers at the ready, not willing to go down without a fight.  
  
Suddenly he felt another presence, and everyone went quiet. The riders stopped and turned to face the individual that stepped into the clearing.  
  
His attire was the same formidable robes of that worn by the riders, however they lacked the full effect, as this person was dramatically shorter stature than the others, and the hairy toes sticking out at the bottom gave the character overall a rather comical appearance.  
  
But these features caused Pippin to despair. Alas! This is what had become of his beloved Frodo. But it was no longer Frodo was it? It was just a soulless servant like the others, one that wished him and his companions harm.  
  
This mourning was not long lived, as the ring wraith/hobbit gazed coldly upon the faces of former friends.  
  
"One of the half-lings is missing," he hissed, and sniffed the air. Suddenly he turned to where Pippin was hiding and shrieked. "There he his!" Upon these words the creature dashed towards him, chasing him through the trees.  
  
Pippin felt for his dagger as he ran, but discovered he had left it back at the clearing. Oh well, it probably wouldn't of made much difference anyway. At least he was a much younger, fitter hobbit than Frodo was... or had been, and a good distance was forming between the two, but he wouldn't be able to keep it up very long.  
  
Ducking behind a bush he grabbed a rock and waited. Soon Frodo charged around the corner to be greeted with a THUMP right on the head, knocking him unconscious.  
  
"Sorry pal," Pippin muttered between gasps for breath. Just as about he was going to make his escape he heard the other nine approaching. There was no way he could take on this lot; there just simply weren't enough rocks! Thinking fast he stole Frodo's robes and put them on. He heard them call out.  
  
"Its O.K. I'm here!" he walked out from behind the bushes. They looked at him blankly. "Hiss?" he suggested.  
  
The Witch-King shrugged.  
  
"Come along you lot – we better get the ring to the Great Eye."  
  
Pippin followed. Great, now he was going to have to pass himself as a Ringwraith and steal the ring back to save mankind! How are you supposed to act if you're a Ringwraith anyway? He sighed. He just hoped there wouldn't be any slash. 


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: Sorry for the delay, even lil' vampires gotta take a holiday sometime! Also I realised like Pippin I had know idea what Ringwraiths get up to in there spare time or how to outsmart them, so this chapter may seem a tad random. Cheers for all the great reviews, let me know what you think of this one and don't miss the closing chapter!

Antivika – true, I love vampires, especially of a hobbity nature. I'm thinking about it.

The dark shapes crept through the trees, silent as the dead, which to be fair Pippin thought, they probably were. Before long they reached the path were the riders mounted their steeds. Cautiously the hobbit approached one of the black beasts. As he looked up at the towering monstrosity it suddenly gave a terrible cry causing him to jump back in shock. The wraiths gave a harsh and chilling laughter.

"Come." Said one, as he offered a thin pale hand. Pippin was glad his face was hidden so they could not see the blend of fear and hatred upon his face, as he gazed upon the beings. They waited for him in perfect stillness, like threatening statues.

Mustering all the bravery he had in him he clasped the cold, corpse like hand, which gripped his tightly and threw him onto the back of the saddle. With a shrill cry the wraiths tugged on the reins and the horses galloped off. Pippin clung to the waist of his rider for fear he should fall off as the beast's hooves pounded the ground at rapid pace. And so the sun slowly rose over the forest while MiddleEarth's fate rested on this small hobbit.

At noon they stopped to rest the horses. The hobbit was disappointed to find that his companions were no less terrifying in daylight than in darkness, and even more so that their chosen resting place was a damp and gloomy cave, away from the slight comfort of sunshine.

Upon entering, the nine sat themselves in a perfect circle that Pippin felt obligated to join. It was then he began to worry what was about to take place, who knew what dreadful deeds these creatures carry out when alone – sacrifices, worship of the occult, slash! The one he had ridden with, who appeared to be the leader, began to speak.

"The time is upon us." He announced in a fell voice. He turned to one of them. "Have you got them?"

"Yes." The other hissed in reply. He reached in to his robes and Pippin held his breath in nervous anticipation. However, the item produced was nothing more than a pack of cards. "Your going down! You, Witch King, can't bluff if Mordor depended on it!"

Soon a poker game was taking place, with the usual bragging and jokes all round. Pippin had quite taken to the shadowy beings. Off duty they were as lazy as any hobbit and seemed to love all the latest jokes from the Shire. Laughing he spoke up.

"O.K, stop me if you've heard this one: A hobbit walks into an orc bar and the bar man says... "Sorry mate, we don't serve food!""

The wraiths gave a shrill giggle at the jest, which managed to make Pippin smile despite how disturbing it sounded. Secretly he'd named his companions Witch king, Doc, Dopey, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Bashful, Grumpy and (for lack of imagination) "other-one" to help keep track.

"Very amusing Halfling!" said the wraith to his right, now known as Grumpy, as he dealt out the pack. "I must admit I wasn't fond of the idea of you joining our number at first, but now the Ring is reclaimed, there is no reason for more than the usual hatred I show towards others."

Curse you, Pippin thought to himself while trying to maintain a cheerful demeanour. Gandalf was right to call you a fool of a Took! How could you so easily forget about the Ring?! Guilt overwhelmed him. He better try and make it up now.

"Say" He replied. "Your quite a cunning wraith, I mean, you've won the last three rounds. How come your only a supporting henchmen?"

Grumpy gave a harsh and bitter laugh.

"I don't know Halfling, who am I to question what Sauron sees fit? Sure, I'd love to be in the Witch Kings shoes, but us Nazgul hardly have promotion prospects, do we now?"

Pippin smiled. Ah, the sweet sound of unresolved issues. He pursued.

"True. And HE" gesturing to the Witch King, now staring intently at his hand, "isn't quite the sharing type when it comes to power, am I right? I bet he'd rather jump into Mount Doom itself before he gave one of you lot a chance to show your worth."

They said nothing, but just glared at their leader throughout the game. Again Grumpy won, albeit Pippin was no longer interested in the game. He saw now that however much he fuel he added to Grumpy's hatred, the Witch King would have to be the one to light the match. (Great metaphor that, he thought to himself. He made a mental note to keep that in this tale, should he survive it. Anyway, back to mischief.)

"I think we should make this the last round." Announced the Witch King, sitting to the hobbit's left. Pippin chuckled.

"Could that have anything to do with the fact you are losing? How much has left your purse tonight? It all seems to be heading to my right! Dealers luck I suppose."

There was a moment's contemplation from the wraith before he spoke up.

"For the this round I think I will shuffle."

"Pray, why this interference?" snapped Grumpy "Now does even the simple act of shuffling a pack of cards require your utter dominance? Are you that possessive that you need yet another thing under your control?!"

"Insolent fool, hand me the cards before I crush you! I care not for power (mine already being absolute) but I'm forced to wonder over the manipulations of you tricky fingers!"

The beast shrieked.

"You have the audacity to accuse me of cheating!"

"Now I come to think of it," interrupted the one (quite rightly) nicknamed Dopey, "I haven't won anything while he's been dealing!"

"Shut up cake-brain!" yawned Sleepy irritably. "A few moments ago you called out "Bingo"! You don't need a fixed pack to make you lose."

Pippin tried to hide his amusement as he watched the two exchange insults while the Witch King was still squabbling with Grumpy.

"Look cheater, the others are fine, its you I don't trust!"

Pippin whispered to Doc, who then joined in the unfolding bedlam.

"If that's true why do you have to carry the ring?"

From under the hood of his black mantel, the deadly gleam of their leader's eyes could be seen.

"Outlaw! Traitor to the Great Eye! How dare thou utter such blasphemous things – you want it for yourself you little turncoat!"

"Liar!" spat Sneezy "You're the one who plans to steal it!"

"Oh, so it's a conspiracy against me is it? Well, I shall slay all of you in thy turn!"

And with that cry of hatred the wraiths drew their swords and leapt each other, in a fearful display of hissing and cursing. The ring of steel upon steel and the sobs of one distraught wraith ("I knew you never liked me – nobody likes me!") filled the air. Eventually one shoved his way out the scrum and tried to reason with the others.

"My brothers!" he yelled, "Stay this madness! We should not shed the blood of our own!" The others ceased and looked at him. He sighed. "See now? God, you lot can be so bloody stupid sometimes!"

And with that last sentiment he sealed his fate as the others charged towards the peacemaker and quite promptly, decapitated him, before continuing with their massacre.

Within minutes, the remaining beast, with somewhat less limbs than he began, collapsed to the floor admitting a final venomous shriek. Pippin emerged cautiously from his hiding place where he had born witness to the carnage, and slowly reached out to touch a nearby corpse to check it was truly dead.

But before the young hobbit's fingers dared to discover the monster's fate, its robes seemed to subside, and its body disintegrated to dust along with the slaughtered companions. A gust wind howled in through the cave entrance and carried off the remains, leaving only nine black robes and Pippin, hand outstretched, staring in disbelief of what had occurred.

After several moments to gather his wits, he finally had the courage to search the robes. Hidden amongst the dark folds of one, there it was. The Ring. So innocent it seemed as Pippin crouched down and picked it up. A distant light gleamed of its smooth surface. Pretty, he thought bitterly, but how he despised it. Idyllic memories of the Shire filled the hobbit's mind, the life of his and his friends, the life this trinket had destroyed.

Pippin looked at it once more and sighed. So pretty. So evil. Suddenly the idea of slipping it on passed briefly through his mind...

Nah, jewellery was for sissies.

And with that thought he placed the Ring in his pocket, and set out on the journey home. But after a few steps he paused and took it out again. It was the end of this little episode, yet he still had the Ring. With a heavy heart he realised what this meant. Another chapter. Bugger.


End file.
